


Regret

by YellowLion



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Crying, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of Crying, M/M, NSFW, Post-Eleventh Hour, Spoilers, abuse of Alcohol, don't worry there's def consent, only not a lot of comfort almost none lbr, pre-suffering game, taagnus, they're drunk and they have regrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 12:22:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowLion/pseuds/YellowLion
Summary: Taako doesn't live with regrets. No, he's way past that. Right?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by fauxholmesart, thanks so much: http://fauxholmesart.tumblr.com/post/156377037664/aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-deliver-me-from-this-fresh#notes
> 
> Also, there's lots of alcohol but there is definite consent. They're both inebriated but both confirm it.

They were were well on their way to shitfaced, you could at the very least call the Tres Horny Boys plastered. 

 

They were drunk.

 

Anyone who had seen Refuge and lived needed a drink, strong enough to drown memory. 

 

The night was a smaller celebration than they had grown used to, as if the Bureau itself had lost too much to be happy.

 

But by gods, Taako needed something to get his mind out of the gulch. So he had dragged out Avi, Killian, Carey, along with his crew to fucking party. They deserved it. 

 

Taako let hours pass, relishing the blur of time, as he did anything and everything to get drunk, to dance, to grab the stage and belt out karaoke with Carey. The moon had more than a few taverns like this, but this one was the only one that didn't mind karaoke. 

 

Magnus hung back, seemed out of place here with his thoughts elsewhere, until Taako grabbed him to tug him onto the dance floor. The man was heavy and damn muscled, too much so for Taako to even get him off his chair but it made Magnus laugh in surprise anyway. Magnus followed him, didn't mind shaking his hips when he had another drink down. The carpenter seemed to actually be enjoying himself and Taako smiled to himself as he watched Carey teach him to shimmy. Everyone was smiling and laughing as they all danced, drunk and terrible but alive. Alive.

 

But time still passed, blessing and curse in one. Merle ended up laughing and drinking till he passed out, Avi shaking his head and carrying the dwarf back to HQ—Killian stumbling with Carey back to their shared dorm around two. The bar had very few stragglers around the time Taako tripped into the bathroom, fishing in his purse for the deep mauve lipstick that he reapplied with muscle memory guiding him—if he thought, he smeared, or so he had learned through the years.

 

The door banged open and startled him into dropping the tube, falling to his knees as he patted the ground for it with a curse. A familiar hand seemed all too large as it plucked up the lipstick and handed it to him. “Are you okay?” the gruff voice slurred. “You just seem—”

 

Taako lurched to his feet, snatching up the tube and shoving it in his bag again. He snarled, smiling as he did, a wide fake grin that was totally transparent because of course Magnus would notice, “Fine.” Magnus always noticed. He just never noticed the right things, only the worst things.

 

The fighter frowned, then touched his cheek oh-so-gently, murmuring, “You’re crying.”

 

The elf slapped his hand away and stormed out of the bar, a whirlwind of messy hair and drunken anger.

 

He smelled like he had bathed in Redcheek alcohol, he was crying, and what he had wanted to be a night of fun had gone to absolute shit.

 

He didn't know how he managed to find the elevator honestly, but just as the doors went to close, a scarred hand shot out and they were moving up painfully slowly to the tune of one of Johann’s famously sad elevator tunes, recorded for the Bureau alone and yet uneaten by the Voidfish.

 

His ears flicked in irritation—saying nothing, fingers balled in his skirt. He heard a sound, small and pitiful, barely heard past the elevator’s song.

 

He whipped around to find the man he had thought was too powerful, too unafraid to cry, doing just that. Small broken breaths, shuddering out of him—eyes fixated on the floor as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

“I—I miss her, so much still, I th-thought, it might,” he whispered, choking on this sadness that seemed bottomless as his words faltered, “Phandalin, I knew it was a mistake, but gods, _ all those people _ .”

 

Taako didn't hang back, too drunk and full of bottled emotions to do anything but rush in—ironic maybe. He rushes in and somehow he's kissing Magnus, desperate to shut him up, keep him from saying what he's thinking. 

 

His hands burrow into his chest, and he knows that they're both fucking crying like emotional dipshits but fuck it.

 

Fuck it.

 

It only takes a jarring moment before Magnus is pulling him closer, hands on hips and opening his mouth for more warmth, more teeth and tongue. It's gross, it's hot, it's the perfect distraction to makeout with Magnus Burnsides, shoved against the elevator’s cool metal door while big hands hold him there.

 

His breath comes fast, ears burning as Magnus lets out this groan that shakes him to his core. Fuck, this is something he should've tried earlier.

 

Magnus remembers to actually do something, palms on the back of his thighs like branding irons as he lifts Taako up easily, slender legs wrapped in beautiful thigh-highs now pressing against his back, knees too-sharp digging into his sides.

 

But Magnus doesn't seem to care how scrawny, how scarred Taako is, just keeps kissing him like it's a need he can't control, a basic necessity for survival.

 

The doors ding and open and they half-trip, half-fall out sprawled in the hall, laughing a bit as they do despite the wetness still on their cheeks.

 

They are too loud, too drunk for this, but at least Merle’s long asleep and Magnus drags him to his own room without a word of protest from the wizard.

 

The door shuts and he’s kicking off his wedges, stumbling backwards onto the bed with Magnus barely managing to get in too as he tugs off his shirt, both of them reaching the point of giggling and shushing each other. Magnus surrounds him, pinning him without touch, only his presence on all-fours above him on this big bed. His eyes close and his forehead touches Taako’s, sharing his very existence with him as they swallow each other's breath—the moments seem so slow, so uncertain, weighed down by all the things they've seen.

 

He can't do it, he can't think about this—he can't bear the memories alone, not at night, in the dark where it's so easy to see the slow burning of flesh and hear the screams agonizingly close.

 

But Magnus opens his eyes again and they don't speak, but he knows, it's a relief to know, that Magnus has his doubts—that they both are terrible people, truly terrible people in a world full of fucked up people and fucked up fate.

 

He kisses him and the touch is electrifying. His fingers are so big, so thick as they caress his thigh, push up the skirt and Magnus chuckles against his lips.

 

With the shoes had gone his panties, somewhere, and Magnus knows it—makes Taako arch off the bed and claw into his shoulders, thumbs the tip of his cock like he's done this before.

 

Taako mewls, ears flattening against his head as he lets out the sound with dark cheeks burning beneath the even darker freckles. The elf tries to reach down, touch his chest and bury his fingers in the thick curls there, but Magnus stops him with a smirk and a kiss to his neck that leaves him limp.

 

He wants to get him back for that, hissing out a demand, “Get the fuck off me shithead.”

 

Magnus jerks back, eyes wide and panicked, “Did you not want—”

 

“No, I mean yes,  _ fuck _ Magnus,” he growls, then sighs. “I do want this. I just—I want to touch you. It's okay to be selfish, dick.”

 

He chuckles, “Good, I mean I do too, and fine by me? Fuck, we’re—”

 

“Drunk, yeah way past you there my man,” he grinned lopsidedly. “Still want this, you, whatever the fuck’s going on, I consent dude.”

 

“Alright then,” the fighter grabs his ass and squeezes with his own dorky shit-eating grin splitting his face. 

 

Taako takes that as a yes, casting a cantrip everyone who learned magic had to learn at eighteen—magic and sex mixed by then, and well.

 

It was handy. Simple, but oh so fucking handy. Especially as he whispered Produce Flame, briefly warming the lube in its vial that he had called to himself.

 

Magnus seemed impressed, as usual, when he used magic at all. He fucking casts a cantrip and  _ gods _ , Magnus looked so good with that slack jawed expression. Best possible reward with least amount of risk—that's pretty good, dude.

 

He pops the cork and tips it at Magnus, smirking. “C’mon Ruff Boi, tell me you’ve seen this before?” he teases, lips curling into a smug sneer.

 

The fighter blinked a few times, then shook his head before plunging three fingers inside—one at a time, too big otherwise. He wiggled them at Taako before they went where Taako couldn't see, the elf gasping at the feeling.

 

The wizard hated the way he could feel the heat on his cheeks, hiding his face in Magnus’ neck as he went to town stretching him, opening him up so fucking slowly he was shaking. He took the opportunity to kiss and nip there, sharp canines dragging across his skin and smiling as Magnus shuddered out a groan. He lapped at the latest bite, determined to leave a trail of unforgettable flowers—blearily, he thought hickeys might be bad when they woke up, but fuck it. Magnus was  _ his _ —for the moment.

 

Soon enough he couldn't control the breathy moans and disgusting croons of  _ Magnus _ and  _ please _ and  _ fuck me _ . At that Magnus flipped him over at last, hands going to cover his and teeth nipping at his long ears, twitching and trying to escape the attention as Taako stuttered out curse after curse. A litany of curses exploded out of him as Magnus unzipped and slid inside him, easy due to the careful attentions of before but still surprising. He wasn't used to this little pain, growling out, “Fuck me, c’mon, fuck me  _ properly _ dipshit!”

 

“Mean,” Magnus breathed in that stupid sultry voice of his, then did as he was told, thank Istus. Holy shit he did as he was told, headboard briefly rocking from the sheer power behind his thrusts, Taako choking on a moan. He was being split in half and it was  _ fantastic _ . A few minutes of this and he was an absolute mess, gasping praises.

 

Then he realized—Magnus was grunting, but not the sexy groans he had come to love in the past half hour. They were hollow and as much as he was enjoying this, he had to pout. He snapped out, panting as his head whipped around as best it could, “What is it?”

 

“What?” the fighter stopped cold, eyes wide. 

 

“You're not enjoying it.”

 

“No! No, I am, I—”

 

“If I could fucking zone of truth you, I would, what the shit Mags,” he hissed, eyes narrowing and ears flicking in annoyance.

 

A deep sigh left his shoulders slumped, and he pulled out, Taako rolling back over. “I dunno, I really want this right now but fuck, I’m not—I’m okay with just you finishing, I’ll just jerk off after, okay?”

 

Taako snapped, “Not okay, fuck dude, you gotta tell me if you're not feeling something.  _ Fuck! _” He pushed at Magnus’ chest to get him to back up, and as he did, he murmured, “I’m Taako, the best fucking wizard ever, how am I supposed to just let you be unsatisfied? Or deprive me of seeing you cum, wow how  _ selfish _ .”

 

Magnus laughed at that, the deadpan humor he was always surprised by in that voice so alike to a song. He obeyed Taako’s insistent hands, swapping places—on his back, hot elf in his lap, fuck he was having a  _ good _ time. 

 

Taako watched his face intently as he slid down, riding him now—he was rewarded with that amazing expression of a powerful man made weak, moaning shakily as Taako snapped his hips.

 

Much better. His fingers twisted in dark hair and he pulled Magnus in for an open-mouthed kiss, alcohol’s edge wearing off but he would be damned if he would have the sense to leave, forget again. It was too good to stop, clearly Magnus thought so as his massive hands squeezed tiny hips hard enough to shatter.

 

Lips, teeth, tongue—lapping at the edges of their kisses, tugging hard on Magnus’ lip with a pitiful whine his reward.

 

They were both broken, drowning in grief but for one moment, he could forget as he crooned out his name, head thrown back as he felt Magnus gasp, spill inside him—sticky, too hot, gross, incredible.

 

Magnus didn't say his name, not once, even now. He knew what name he had moaned, but didn't point it out—wasn't petty enough to do that despite the tired bitter emotion stuck to the roof of his mouth. He rolled off Magnus, and the man hugged his hips, nuzzling into his stomach as he fell asleep at last—maybe the first time in a long time without nightmares waking him.

 

Taako laid back, trying to catch his breath and forget.  _ Julia. _

 

He buried a hand in his own hair, losing the will to find orgasm as he realized what he had done—admittedly far too late to regret it, but he did. He regretted a lot of things lately.

 

“Fuck.”

  
  
  



End file.
